FIRST TIMES...AGAIN

I am in San Francisco, my fathers old stomping grounds. He was here at the beginning of the 60's counter culture now he is in his 60's and in many ways still leading a counter culture. At the time when all these guys still had their own livers my dad was amongst them just pre-hippy, the confluence of the zen inspired "beat" movement, the civil rights movement (before people were too stoned to stand for something) and the San Francisco rock scene at its dawn.


He help start the first commune on 1090 Page st. from which notable's such as Janis Joplin emerged, he would play blue-grass with ,then the warlocks who then became a little better known as, the Gratefull Dead.
I thought all my dads stories were the kind of self promoting bullshit that dad's tell there growing sons who fuss grooming the peach fuzz on their upper lip and chin, but when we were invited to a reunion concert 10 years ago he really did know all these people and they fondly remembered him, those who were sill alive or conscious. I crashed the event and got my sister in for free too, in full mime costume after being brutally forced by a leather clad ex-rockband roadie that opened the back door when I knocked( I was just trying to help my sister find a bathroom because the line was around the block, my dad scalped the extra tickets.)

but thats another story...

As was popular in the early 90's being a gurukuli ment sex drugs and rock and role or at least idolising the life style rebeling against the "Man" or in or case the "Prabhu" by picking up where our parents left of to become "hare krishna's"

I always hung out with people older than me and thereby went through a lot of the growing pains vicariously with them I fashioned my self a drugie artist type and poet before I had experience enough in life to have anything original to say I didn't have enough reference points to copy any one else with any commitment or understanding, all I knew was being bad was more fun than being goodand I developed a parallel facination and longing to experience altered states of consciousness.

Right in the thick this ideal I planned a trip to San Francisco for Krishna's Rathayatra festival held in golden gate park since 1967 when my dad joined the Hare Krishna Movement.

this was the first time traveling on my own with my own adgenda I was 12 despirate to be 13 (hell why cut myself short I wanted to be 21) I went and stayed with my aunt who lived across from the park in a beautiful classic SF Victorian flat.

The day of the parade I got droped off at the beginning I was ready to have the true San Francisco experience, I had the tie-dye shirt blue tinted hippy glasses and a rasta hat on my shoulder length hair and the magic mushrooms that I stole from my brothers sock drawer that I found snooping for some other prohibited items...my stomic was clinched tight, up ntill this point I had gotten drunk one and smoke cigarettes so sparingly  as to keep the buzz at full peak, pot was still far out of reach for me, but some how I scored the mega-load a true and natural psychedelic I speculated that I would have a deepened spiritual experience in the kirtan and in seeing Jaganath.

I had no idea how much I should or shouldn't take I didn't know if I should chew or swallow whole all I knew was that I was going to have a powerfully life changing event bringing me closer to God. some thing to note when the mushroom heist took place I took the smallest one that looked like resembled a mushroom (non looked like the ones I would scribble on my arm desk, backpack book covers bathroom walls and Vans skatebord shoes)   I kept it in a little black jewelry case as I walked twards the chanting mob I popped it in my mouth chewed a couple times and swallowed ( it tasted bad) and jolted forward for my moment of rapture to catch me as I faithfully retraced the footsteps of the Hippys turned Happys. not having a particulare taste or attraction for kirtan I set out from the parade to find the one element my hippie uniform lacked, a cool walking stick to giveme that sagacious wanderer look. I found a sax player grooving in a cavernous overpass. I picked up a few stick not that really embraced me as the constant companion that it was supposed to become, as i found one I abandoned the previous.

you might be wondering about the mushroom trip, I was wondering the same thing.

I made it to the end of the parade and after waiting in line for the free feast was sitting on ...yes! HIPPIE HILL!!! with a waning confidence in breaking on through to the other side (words I sang along to with hopeful yearning, like apre-teen girl for her first kiss being with the cute guy in a boy band)

I don't really remember any details except for sitting on the grass and waiting for something to happen looking at the little things wanting them to do something mind blowing and profound....m
I walked home in a state of disillusionment nothing happened except I lost most of my stuff the glasses the walking stick i finally settled on and the rasta hat. the halucinations didn't kick in til the middle of the night. and when it rained it poured, well stuff got wet......

As i slept a was roused by the urgent need to pee I distinctly remember getting up, walking over to the toilet, which was in a separate room than the sink and tending to my buisness. h
However, half way through my buisness i became very uncomfortablely warm a creeping damp tormented me.  the bathroom tile and swoowing of the water down the drain suddenly blurred as my eye openned an focussed on the the shadow case by the window frame on the ceiling ,by the light of a street lamp down bellow 2 floors kicking my blanket off the nippy bay area night air chilled the griping wetness if my PJs.....Shit I wet the  bed! I wet the bed!   as a 100 lbs young man the damage was devistating the urine soaking deeply in to her living room futon, I don't recall if I woke my aunt at that moment or if I found a dry spot to weather the rest of the shame ridden night, I think the latter was the case because I have vague recollection of pushing the confession to as close to the moment I was expected to fold it up as possible.

I had to take it as a rough to keep my secret drug use and got dubbed on that side of the family as a "developmentally challenged youth, probably resulting from a my Hare Krishna up bringing"
thats what I heard heard wispering over the phone or so I thought i heard if the toilet bowl isnt real then what is.

this was not the life changing experience that I was hoping for and it was only latter that year  with equally but less dramatic go at smoking pot that I ended up getting closer to God.

Still hot and ready for ecstasy I listened to some powerful recording of His Divine Grace AC Bhaktivedanta swami Prabhupada the Founder of the Krishna Consciousness Movement that had induceed some many hippies to drop their dope and shave off there long hair, my self sick of chewing on gum that had be already spat out by the generation before me finally admitted that it had no favor.

I heard the clear and resonant sound of transcendental ecstasy, no drugs needed, just love, and all you need is love isn't that the mantra of the hippies given by the beatles?

that was the single most deciding moment of my life that would forever change the course of my life...

I said I want to experience what He is experiencing!

the rest of the story is still being written and I invite you to join me on this Trip and stay high forever!